


How Do You Like Me Now?

by beckybrit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hd_smoochfest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 22:57:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beckybrit/pseuds/beckybrit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a very public break-up, Draco Malfoy is trying to drink his sorrows away, but the arrival of one Harry Potter sees the evening take an entirely different turn. EWE</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Do You Like Me Now?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for hd_smoochfest 2012

 

“Look, Luna. You don’t have to like-” Hermione paused as the waiter rushed over to top up her wine, lingering next to the table until Harry’s sharp glare sent him scurrying away. Harry rolled his eyes, wondering if he would ever be able to eat out without all the fuss and fawning that always followed him. “As I was saying,” Hermione continued determinedly. “You don’t have to like the fact that there are now certain _rules_ to be adhered to but you do have to follow them.”

 

Hermione continued to lecture Luna on the new list of Ministry rules and regulations concerning Merlin-only-knew-what this time, but Harry successfully managed to tune her out. As much as he loved Hermione, she tended to take her job at the Ministry far too seriously these days and needed little prompting to extol the virtues of its new laws. Unfortunately, Luna had made the mistake of asking Hermione how work was going; earning a collective sigh from both Harry and Ron, and Hermione had been only too pleased to tell her _all_ about it.

 

Harry gazed out of the window, looking at nothing in particular until the roar of something very loud indeed, caught his attention. He leaned to the side, peering down the street and attempting to spot whatever was causing all the ruckus. A few seconds later Harry’s eyes widened slightly as a sleek, black motorcycle tore down the street, coming to a screeching halt outside the pub opposite. 

 

Harry watched with rapt fascination as the rider swung one long, leather-clad leg over the bike and stood facing the restaurant. Harry had a perfect, uninterrupted view of the stranger and used it to his full advantage as he swept his eyes over every inch on display.

 

Harry started at his feet, admiring the heavy, black boots that came part way up the stranger’s firm calves. Ridiculously tight, black leather trousers clung to toned and slender thighs and Harry couldn’t help but lick his lips as his eyes trailed up and over the stranger’s rather impressive bulge. Harry swallowed thickly, feeling his own impressive bulge beginning to take an interest.

 

Harry vaguely heard one his friends saying his name, but he had absolutely no intention of turning back to the table; he didn’t want to miss anything. The stranger wore a snug-fitting, black leather jacket that hinted at a lean frame underneath. Harry reluctantly skimmed over the flat, inviting planes of the stranger’s hips and torso, getting beyond excited as he watched pale hands reach up and tug the muggle helmet off his head. Harry’s breath caught as pale blond hair spilled out and fell about the stranger’s beautifully handsome face.

 

Except, Harry realised as his mouth went dry all of a sudden, it _wasn’t_ a stranger after all.

 

“Harry?” Harry felt a sharp jab to his ribs. “Honestly, Harry. Have you been listening to anything I just...?”  Hermione’s voice trailed off as her gaze followed Harry’s. “Is that...is that _Malfoy_?” She asked, her voice sounding just a tiny bit awed. “Oh my...”

 

_Oh my,_ indeed. Thought Harry.

 

He’d bumped into Malfoy on several occasions over the past two years, and whilst he always looked impeccably put together and as handsome as ever, Harry had never seen him look like _that._ The small crush that Harry had managed to keep a tight rein on until now, was quickly progressing into something entirely different. He shifted uncomfortably, horribly aware that he was sat having dinner with his friends whilst sporting an erection to be proud of.

 

By this time both Ron and Luna had also noticed the focus of Harry’s attention.

 

“Merlin’s pants!” Ron exclaimed, almost choking on his pint. “What’s the pointy git doing dressed like _that_?”

 

Harry had no idea, and he really didn’t care because a leather-wearing, boot-clad, motorcycle riding Malfoy was sex on legs.

 

“I imagine,” Luna said from beside Harry. “That he’s trying not to be recognised.”

 

Harry scoffed at the ridiculous notion. “Since when does a Malfoy _not_ want to be recognised?” After everything had calmed down after the war, Draco and his mother had done a lot of work to restore the Malfoy name and could once again hold their heads high in the wizarding world. He doubted very much that Draco Malfoy would ever want to go anywhere and not be the centre of attention.

 

“Since this morning’s paper came out, probably,” Hermione answered, sighing and rolling her eyes at Harry’s confused look.

 

“Don’t you read the Prophet, Harry?” Luna asked, sounding more than a little exasperated. She fished inside her unnecessarily large bag, grinning in triumph as she pulled out a slightly tattered copy of that morning’s Prophet and poked Harry in the arm with it. “Here.”

 

Harry dutifully took the rolled up paper and smoothed it out over the table, but not before watching the retreating form of Draco Malfoy, paying particular attention to his rather fine arse, as he turned and stalked inside the pub.

 

Harry’s stomach flipped in delight as his eyes focused on the photographs covering most of the front page. There, in glorious detail, was Malfoy. In the first two pictures, he appeared to be laughing at someone just out of the picture. His whole face lit up with happiness and the sight took Harry’s breath away. He had never seen that expression on Malfoy’s elegant features before.

 

The third picture showed Malfoy leaving what Harry assumed to be his apartment. He turned to face the camera and Harry could plainly see that all traces of happiness were gone, replaced by the scowl that Harry recognised all too well. The difference between this photo and the two previous ones was astounding, and Harry immediately wondered what could have happened to cause such a drastic change.

 

The fourth and final picture, coupled with the bold type underneath, soon answered that. _How had he not known?_ He read the words out loud, unable to hide his disbelief.

 

“Charity Fund-raiser, Draco Malfoy, splits with best friend and lover, Blaise Zabini after pureblood love-triangle.”

 

The photo showed a picture of Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, clearly in the midst of a heated argument. Harry gasped as Blaise suddenly grabbed Malfoy and kissed him, before Malfoy roughly shoved him back and drew his wand. It ended there and Harry cursed as he watched it repeat over and over, he was dying to know if Malfoy had hexed him or not. Harry was a little disturbed to realise that he hoped that Malfoy had hexed Zabini with something particularly nasty.

 

Harry stared at the pictures, absently noting that while the past seemed to follow Harry everywhere, Malfoy seemed to have escaped it altogether. There was no mention, anywhere, that he was a former Death-Eater. Apparently there was no need to drag up old stories about him when they had this juicy new one to write about.

 

“Bloody hell!” Ron said, sliding the paper over towards him to get a better look. “Always thought he looked a bit of a ponce, though.” Ron yelped in pain, shooting Hermione a glare before looking sheepishly over at Harry. “Oh yeah... sorry, mate. But you know what I mean, don’t you?”

 

“Yeah, I do.” Harry replied, grinning slightly. He knew none of his friends had a problem with him preferring men, and Ron’s lack of tact and subsequent scolding from Hermione, amused him no end. Harry was just happy that he wasn’t the only one to be surprised by Malfoy’s sexual orientation.

 

Both Luna and Hermione, however, were looking between Harry and Ron and shaking their heads. “How is it that you two have absolutely no idea about anything that doesn’t involve work or Quidditch?” Hermione asked, but Harry sensed from her tone that it was a rhetorical question and wisely chose to keep quiet.

 

“That’s not f-” Ron tried to defend himself but was swiftly interrupted.

 

“I wasn’t finished yet, Ronald.” Hermione continued, her eyebrows arching as she dared Ron to say anything further. “If you paid a little more attention to the rest of the Wizarding World, you would know that Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini have been an item for quite some time.” Harry felt a stab of something that was remarkably similar to jealousy, as he thought about the two of them together.

 

He snatched the paper back from Ron and scanned the rest of the article. According to reliable sources, (Harry scoffed knowing how ‘reliable’ Rita Skeeter’s sources actually were), Malfoy had come back to his apartment to find Zabini in bed with fellow Slytherin, Theo Nott. Harry didn’t bother to read further, already feeling like it was a gross invasion of privacy. He’d been on the receiving end of Skeeter’s less than truthful articles and knew that he shouldn’t believe half of what was written.

 

Harry’s gaze was drawn back to the photos where Malfoy was happy and laughing, thinking what an utter twat Blaise Zabini was for ever letting _that_ go.

 

Their food arrived shortly after and all talking ceased, Malfoy and his relationship problems soon forgotten.

 

By everybody, except Harry.

 

He joined in the conversation, laughing and joking with his friends for the next hour and a half, but all the while he kept one eye on the pub across the road. As far as Harry was aware, Malfoy was still in there and the temptation to go over and join him was getting stronger by the minute. Of course Harry had no idea what he’d say to Malfoy, or if he’d even talk to him. All Harry knew, was that he wanted to go over and get another look at the sexy blond in black leather and biker boots.

 

At the end of the meal, everyone grabbed their cloaks, or coat in Harry’s case since he still favoured muggle clothes, and headed out into the cool evening. Luna apparated home after giving Harry a quick hug and whispering something about the moon being in the right phase for starting again. Harry just grinned, like he always did at Luna’s odd sayings.

 

There was still no sign of Malfoy and Harry was almost desperate to go inside now, but he didn’t know how to explain it to his friends. He shuffled from one foot to the other, chatting with Ron and Hermione about meeting up on Sunday and casting furtive glances over to the pub.

 

“Oh for goodness’s sake Harry,” Hermione sighed, and shoved him with her shoulder. “Go on over there before you explode.”

 

“What?” Harry felt his face heat at being caught out.

 

“You’ve looked at that bloody door at least twenty times in the last five minutes, mate,” Ron added and Harry went impossibly redder.

 

“It’s okay, Harry.” Hermione patted his arm and leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Draco looked incredibly hot. If I didn’t have Ron, I’d be coming with you!”

 

“Oi, I heard that!”

 

Harry laughed at Ron’s outraged face, and mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Hermione as she tugged on Ron’s arm and persuaded him to leave. Harry could still hear him grumbling as they walked down the street.

 

Left alone, the prospect of going inside and seeing Malfoy suddenly became a little daunting. Harry had no idea if he’d even be welcome; it wasn’t like they were friends or anything. With a deep breath and a generous helping of Gryffindor courage, Harry walked purposefully across the street and into the pub.

 

 

\--oxo--

 

 

The wizarding pub was darker than Harry was expecting and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. He blinked a couple of times as he took in the surroundings. The walls were a light silver grey that seemed to shimmer and move, reminding Harry of the sea. The booths along the back wall and the surrounding tables and chairs were all done in varying shades of green. Harry smiled ruefully as he realised exactly why Malfoy would want to come in here; it was like a Slytherin’s wet dream.

 

Harry scanned the room looking for Malfoy, and the thought suddenly occurred to him that Malfoy might not be here alone. Before Harry had chance to change his mind about the whole thing and head back home, his gaze landed on shock of white blond hair resting on the bar with the accompanying body slumped down on top of a stool. Malfoy was clearly drunk or at the very least, well on his way.

 

Harry took a moment to admire the way Malfoy’s trousers clung to his arse, before walking across the room towards him. Harry carefully perched on the thankfully empty stool next to Malfoy, keeping one hand in his pocket safely wrapped around his wand, just in case he really wasn’t welcome. Harry had never seen Draco Malfoy drunk and decided to err on the side of caution. He waited for the inevitable snarky comment, but none was forthcoming. Either Malfoy was too drunk to notice that Harry had sat down, or just didn’t care. Harry quietly hoped it was the former.

 

The barman wandered over and Harry hastily ordered a stiff drink, taking a rather large gulp to steady his nerves. While he contemplated how to strike up a conversation, Harry felt a sharp jab to his elbow. He looked over to his left and was surprised to see heavy lidded grey eyes staring up at him, an elegantly arched eyebrow raised in question. Harry peered down at his elbow where Malfoy’s long finger was still poking him repeatedly.

 

“Do you mind?” Harry asked, meeting Malfoy’s gaze again, but not moving out of reach.

 

“Hmm...?” Malfoy muttered, stroking his finger down Harry’s arm and then back again. “I was just checking it was you, Potter. You are _you_ , aren’t you? I mean you talk like Potter and certainly look like him, horrifically messy hair and all.”  Harry rolled his eyes, and fought the urge to reach up and smooth out said messy hair. “But one can never be sure after too many of these.” Malfoy lifted his glass and waved it haphazardly in the air, the remnants of his drink sloshing around in the bottom.

 

Malfoy's finger had ceased stroking Harry’s arm and was now rubbing small, soft circles on the back of Harry’s hand that rested on the bar. The feel of skin on skin, no matter how brief, sent a delicious tingle up Harry’s spine, setting his nerves on edge as he felt Malfoy’s touch all the way down to his toes. Harry swallowed, enjoying the gentle caress for a few seconds longer before reluctantly pulling his hand away. He’d rather not let Malfoy know just how much his touch affected him. At least not yet anyway.

 

“Yes, Malfoy.” Harry eventually replied, putting his hand in his pocket, well away from Malfoy’s touchy-feely fingers. “It’s me.”

 

“It’s been a while, Potter.” Malfoy said, finally pushing himself up into a sitting position. “What are you doing here...” He looked over Harry’s shoulder for a minute, eyes narrowing slightly. “...on your own? I wouldn’t have pegged this as your kind of establishment.”

 

Harry shifted uncomfortably, not knowing how to answer. He couldn’t exactly tell Malfoy that he’d read about his breakup in the Prophet and just wanted to come and admire his new look. Well, not if he didn’t want to get hexed.

 

“Um...”

 

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake.” Malfoy sat a little straighter, his mood changing from curious to annoyed in a second. “Not you too, Potter?” He sighed, running a hand through his, for once, slightly mussed hair. “I assume you’ve seen today’s Prophet?” Harry nodded, sheepishly, thinking this had been a stupid idea after all. “I thought you’d given up reading that rag of a paper years ago.” Draco continued, snapping his fingers impatiently at the barman and ordering another drink.

 

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Harry asked, immediately wanting to suck the words back in when he saw Malfoy’s expression.

 

“Surprisingly, no, Potter,” Malfoy sneered, snatching his fresh drink up off the bar and downing it in one. “I don’t think I’ve had nearly enough. Yet.” He nodded at the barman hovering nearby for a refill and turned back to Harry, taking a good long look at him.

 

Harry felt his cheeks heat under Malfoy’s shamelessly open perusal of his body and almost rolled his eyes. He was a grown man, for fuck’s sake, he shouldn't be blushing just because someone _looked_ at him. But it was Malfoy, he reminded himself, and he had always affected Harry differently than everybody else. Especially when he was looking at Harry like _that_ and licking his lips in a decidedly filthy fashion.

 

Harry cleared his throat, and Malfoy thankfully raised his eyes back up to look at his face. Harry wondered if Malfoy had noticed the way his trousers were pulled a little tighter in front, Harry’s excitement becoming more obvious by the second.

 

“You’re looking good, Potter.” Malfoy said, eventually. “You’ve filled out nicely.” His voice was remarkably clear considering the amount of alcohol Harry assumed he’d had. Only the slight sway of his body atop the stool gave any hint that Malfoy might be more than a little drunk. “Some places more than others, I see,” Malfoy added, smirking as his eyes flicked down to Harry’s growing bulge.

 

Harry coughed and fought off the urge to slip a hand in his pocket and adjust himself. “So,” he said, deciding since Malfoy knew he’d seen the Prophet anyway, he might as well ask him about it now. “You and Blaise, eh?”

 

“Yes?” Malfoy snapped, turning back to rest his arms on the bar. “What of it?” Harry felt the shift in his mood and knew he should probably drop the subject, but his curiosity got the better of him.

 

“I know what it said in the paper, but I also know that you can’t believe everything that you read.” Harry paused, and placed his hand on Malfoy’s arm. “Did he really cheat on you with Theo Nott?” Harry wanted to add _of all people,_ because although Nott was _okay_ looking he was also a fellow Slytherin and Harry was sure he’d been a friend of Malfoy’s at school.

 

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Malfoy replied, eyeing Harry thoughtfully. “But, yes,” he sighed and just for a second Harry saw a glimpse of vulnerability and hurt in Malfoy’s eyes before the cool grey gaze returned. “For once Skeeter got it right. I found Blaise and Nott _going at it_ in my bloody apartment.”

 

“Oh.” Was all Harry could think to say. He hadn’t expected Malfoy to be quite so forthcoming. “No wonder you’re--”

 

“Getting drunk off my arse?” Malfoy interrupted, knocking back his drink to illustrate the fact. “Drowning my sorrows and trying to forget my broken heart?”

 

“Well...um...yes actually.”

 

To Harry’s amazement, Malfoy laughed. It wasn’t exactly bitter, but still sounded slightly off to Harry’s ears.

 

 “I’m not upset about Blaise because I was _in love_ with him.” Harry couldn’t help but feel more than a little confused.  Malfoy swivelled round on his stool so that he was facing Harry, all traces of laughter gone. “Look, Blaise was my friend. He knew how hard I’d had to work to get my life back together, to finally be treated with a modicum of respect again after...” he glanced quickly at Harry before continuing. “... _everything_. If he wanted to see other people, all he had to do was say. “

 

“But --” Harry gestured to Malfoy and the fresh drink being placed in front of him.

 

“Blaise and I were friends with benefits, nothing more. The reason for this...” His long fingers wrapped around the drink and he raised it high, gently swirling the liquid inside. “Is because he chose to go behind my back, _in my own fucking apartment_ , with someone who he knew wouldn’t hesitate to sell the story to the likes of Rita Skeeter. I’ve been very careful to keep my private life _private,_ and now it’s out there for everyone to see, in all its sordid detail.”

 

Malfoy emptied the contents of his drink, lazily wiping his mouth on the back of his hand in a very un-Malfoy-like way. “He was my friend and I trusted him. That’s why I was sat here, _alone_ , attempting to drink myself stupid.”

 

Malfoy’s eyes fell back on his empty glass, his fingers sliding idly around the rim and they lapsed into an uneasy silence. Harry hadn’t missed Malfoy’s emphasis on the word _alone_ and suddenly felt like he was intruding. They weren’t friends after all, and even though Malfoy had just told Harry more than he’d ever expected about what had happened between him and Blaise, maybe he just wanted to get drunk in peace.

 

“Yeah...ok.” Harry muttered, sliding off his stool and standing up. “Well, I’m sorry for intruding on...” Harry gestured between Malfoy and his glass, not knowing what else to say. Malfoy was still staring intently at the bar, so Harry dropped his hands and slipped them into his pockets and started towards the door. “For what it’s worth,” Harry said, pausing and looking back over his shoulder. “I think Blaise was a fucking fool.”

 

Malfoy’s fingers stilled their movement on the glass and Harry waited to see if Malfoy would say anything but after a few more uncomfortable seconds he sighed and turned to leave.

 

“Wait.”

 

That one word had Harry’s stomach all a flutter and when a cool, slender hand wrapped around his wrist accompanied by a barely audible “ _Don’t go_.” Harry couldn’t contain the smile that lit his face or the giddy feeling in his chest. Nor did he want to.

 

The soft stroke of Malfoy’s thumb made Harry’s breath hitch. It was the barest of touches over his pulse point, yet it sent a jolt of desire hot and fierce through Harry’s body. When a gentle pull on his hand forced him to turn around, Harry knew that Malfoy would be able to see it in his eyes.

 

Harry looked at Malfoy as he let himself be turned around, not attempting to hide anything and from the slight widening of those curious grey eyes, Harry knew that Malfoy had realised exactly what effect he was having on Harry. Malfoy squeezed Harry’s hand ever so slightly before letting his fingers trail over Harry’s and then wrapped them back around his now full glass on the bar.

 

“Sit down, Potter.” Malfoy drawled, downing his freshly poured drink and breaking the tension between them. “And tell me all about what a ‘ _fucking fool_ ’ Zabini is.”

 

Harry laughed softly and sat down; fully prepared to stroke Draco’s ego for the next hour or so if that’s what he needed. It would be the truth, too. Harry wondered how Draco would feel if he knew how big of a crush Harry had on him, and also just when _Malfoy_ had become _Draco_ in Harry’s head.

 

\--oxo--

 

They spent the next few hours talking, much to Harry’s surprise. They talked about life since Hogwarts, prudently ignoring any mention of the war. That was just fine with Harry; he’d no wish to be reminded of the past. Draco was funny and Harry learned how much they actually had in common. The more Draco drank, the more open he became, telling Harry things he felt sure a sober Draco would never have divulged. After about an hour Harry managed to persuade Draco to stop ordering alcohol and switch to water. But that didn't stop him from telling Harry all about his relationship with Blaise, and Harry believed Draco when he said that they weren’t in love. It was the betrayal by someone he considered his most trusted friend that had hurt Draco, and Harry could clearly see the hurt in the way he spoke.

 

“I think I should get you home,” Harry said, starting to feel a little guilty about letting Draco share such personal information while drunk, especially when Harry was still relatively sober. “You’ll regret telling me all this in the morning.”

 

“Why, are you going to run off and tell my sordid little tales to the Prophet, Potter?” Draco asked, slurring slightly now, but still managing a raised eyebrow.

 

“No, ‘course not.” Harry replied, calling the bartender over to sort out Draco’s tab. “You can trust me,” he added softly.

 

Draco snorted, inelegantly, and Harry smirked when he thought of how horrified Draco would be if he was sober. “I trusted Blaise, and look how that turned out.”

 

“I’m not Blaise.” Harry said, a little too forcefully. “I would never treat you like that.” Harry could feel the blush colouring his cheeks as he thought about just how he would treat Draco if he were his.

 

“Is that so?” Draco said. His eyes looked surprisingly clear as they stared at Harry, making him blush even more as a knowing expression settled on his face.

“Tell me something, Potter,” Draco asked as Harry pulled him to his feet and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Why did you never marry the Weaslette?”

 

Harry stopped in his tracks, not expecting _that_ question. He thought everyone knew that he was gay. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise, since he and Ron had been just as clueless about Draco.

 

“That would be because I’m gay.”

 

“Oh.” Draco stumbled, leaning on Harry and nearly knocking him over. “Didn’t know you were a ponce too, Potter.” Malfoy said, a lazy smirk spreading across his face. Harry rolled his eyes and continued steering Draco towards the door on the far side of the room.

 

“Well, it’s hardly a secret.”

 

“Still, who knew The Boy Who Lived would turn out to be gay?” Draco mused, his smirk turning into a wide grin. “They should call you...The Boy Who Takes It Up the Arse, or The Boy Who Likes Cock.” Draco paused, brow wrinkling in obvious concentration and Harry hated to think what he would come up with next. “I know,” he said, grey eyes sparkling with mischief. “How about...The Boy Who Likes a Nice, Wet Tongue in His-”

 

“Right!” Harry said, quickly cutting Draco off before he could finish that particular sentence. The last thing Harry needed was to be thinking about _that_ particular activitywith a warm, pliant Draco in his arms. Harry held him a little tighter as they manoeuvred their way out of the bar, and tried not to dwell on how firm and strong Draco felt under his fingers, despite his slim appearance.

 

They eventually made it out of the pub, the crisp night air hitting them as soon as they stepped through the door making Harry shiver a little. Draco, in his inebriated state, seemed oblivious to the chill.

 

“So...um...” Harry propped Draco against the wall, and ran a hand through his hair, wondering just _how_ he was going to get Draco home. Harry had no idea where he lived and really didn’t fancy a Side-Along with Draco being as drunk as he was - the prospect of getting splinched wasn’t appealing in the least.

_Fuck._

“Oh, look! There’s my bike.” Malfoy pushed himself off the wall before Harry could stop him, weaving his way over to where he’d left it earlier. “Come on, Potter!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Let me take you for a _ride_.” Harry didn’t miss the way he said _ride_ , but studiously ignored the images that suddenly flooded, not entirely unwelcome, into his brain. Draco, leather and a motorbike were a lethal concoction and Harry’s will power was being tested to its limits.

 

He rushed after Draco, coming to a grinding halt as he reached him and nearly tripping over his own feet in the process.

 

Draco had managed to arrange himself over the back of his bike, legs either side of the seat and leaning back on his elbows. One long, pale hand stroked up and down his taut stomach and Harry couldn't help but notice the outline of something rather large straining at the zip in Draco’s leather trousers.

 

He swallowed thickly, unable to tear his eyes away.

 

“How do you like me now, Potter?” Draco purred, sweeping his hand over the length of his body.

 

“Um...I...um”

 

_Very fucking much_ were the words Harry wanted to say but he was finding speech more than a little difficult with his tongue practically hanging out. Draco cast his heated gaze over Harry’s body in a way that made his toes curl.

 

“I need to get you home.” Harry muttered, cursing when Draco arched an eyebrow and Harry realised how that had sounded. “I don’t mean like _that_ ,” he insisted. Although if he was being totally honest, Harry would very much like to take Draco home and have his way with him. But he was drunk and Harry wasn’t, so that really wasn’t an option. “I need to get you home, because you’re drunk. And before you ask, no, you can’t ride your bike.”

 

“You’re no fun, Potter,” Draco pouted, but made no move to get up and Harry allowed himself a second or two of looking at his pink lips and imagining what they’d feel like, before grabbing Malfoy’s arm and gently tugging him up until he was standing, or more like leaning, next to Harry.

 

“Where do you live?” Harry asked, slipping an arm around Draco to hold him steady. “You’re too drunk to appa-”

 

Harry’s eyes widened in horror as Draco grinned and, without a second thought, Apparated them both back to his flat.

 

\--oxo--

 

“Merlin’s sake, Malfoy!” Harry yelled as they stumbled after landing in what appeared to be Draco’s bedroom. “A little warning next time, yeah?”

 

“Next time?” Draco grinned, falling forwards into Harry and toppling them both onto his bed. “Who says there’s going to be a next time? I don’t invite just anybody into my bed you know.”

 

“Whatever.” Harry rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the way Draco was squirming about as he struggled to push himself up. “I just meant that --”

 

“I know what you meant.” Draco interrupted, leaning forward, his eyes fixed on Harry’s mouth. _Oh_ , Harry thought watching Draco get closer and closer, he was going to kiss him. Harry had imagined about this exact situation far too often to count and had used this particular fantasy; he was ashamed to admit, for more than the odd wank. But Draco was drunk, and Harry shouldn’t take advantage of the situation, he should say no and stop this before it went any--

 

Soft lips covered his, and Harry’s forgot all about doing the thing. His mouth opened under Draco’s and a warm wet tongue lapped at his lips, teasing him before slipping inside to explore Harry’s mouth. It was hot and filthy, Draco’s hips grinding against Harry’s in a slow torturous rhythm that had him moaning in an embarrassingly wanton way.

 

Draco’s hand burrowed between them, seeking out Harry’s cock and palming it roughly through his jeans. Harry bucked against him, lost in the feeling of being underneath Draco - a position he never thought he’d actually be in.

 

“I want you to fuck me,” Draco breathed against Harry’s lips, the strong smell of alcohol washed over Harry and it was like being doused with a bucket of cold water. He couldn’t do this while Draco wasn’t thinking clearly - it wasn’t fair to either of them.

 

With a frustrated and unhappy sigh, Harry untangled himself from Draco’s clutches and gently rolled him off and onto his back beside Harry on the bed.

 

“What did you do that for?” Draco grumbled sleepily, his eyes already starting to drift closed. “Want you...”

 

Harry smiled as Draco turned onto his side and curled up next to him. “Trust me; you’ll thank me in the morning.”

 

Draco’s hand stretched out toward Harry and he immediately wrapped his own around it. Draco squeezed his fingers gently and the whispered “ _I trust you_ ” that fell from Draco’s parted lips nearly stopped Harry’s heart.

 

He swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched Draco fall asleep and hoped that he’d _please; please_ remember this in the morning.

 

\--oxo--

 

Harry had left an unconscious Draco asleep in his bed and had spent the night on Draco’s, thankfully, incredibly comfortable settee. He didn’t want to wake up with an armful of severely hung over Malfoy who had no recollection of the previous evening. Harry wisely decided that that might not go down too well.

 

“Still here, I see.”

 

Harry startled awake, scrabbling around to find his glasses before sitting up against the cushions. “Um...yeah,” he replied, taking in the deliciously sleep-rumpled form of Draco as he leaned against the lounge door. “I wanted to keep an eye on you. You know, make sure you were okay.”

 

“How sweet, Potter.”

 

Harry might have been offended at the sarcastic tone, if he hadn’t noted the beginnings of a smile curving the edges of Draco’s mouth and the warmth in his eyes. “How do you feel this morning?” Harry asked, thinking that he must be feeling pretty crap considering the amount he drank.

 

“Perfectly fine.” Draco replied as if it was the most ridiculous question ever. Harry narrowed his eyes, trying to detect a hint of hangover. “Malfoy’s don’t get hangovers, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

 

“Hmm...” Harry suspected that it had nothing to do with Malfoy genetics and everything to do with the ingestion of several good hangover potions, but he kept that thought to himself.

 

“I’m going for a shower, “Draco said, standing up and attempting to smooth out his wrinkled appearance. “You can use the one in the guest room if you like.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Oh, and Harry,” Harry looked up sharply at the soft tone of Draco’s voice to see him watching him from the doorway. “Thank you, for last night. For getting me home and...well all the rest of it.”

 

Harry’s mouth fell open a little at the shock of hearing Draco Malfoy say thank you. His heart rate picked up at the thought that Draco might also remember some of the things they’d said and done from the night before.

 

“You’re welcome,” he said, eventually finding his voice. “How much do you remember?”

 

“Everything.”

 

_Oh._

 

Harry didn’t know what to say to that, he felt his cheeks getting hot and was relieved to see matching pink spots colouring Draco’s. “Um...well...I guess I’ll go take a shower then.”

 

“Yes...right...me too.” Draco answered, somewhat flustered. If Harry wasn’t feeling just as awkward and embarrassed himself, he would have laughed.

 

\--oxo--

 

The shower in Draco’s guest bathroom was heavenly, and Harry spent a good five minutes relaxing his tired muscles under the spray. While Draco’s settee was about as comfortable as one could get, it still wasn’t as good as a bed and Harry ached a little from the experience.

 

He flatly refused to think about Draco in his own shower. Refused to imagine him all soapy and naked and wet, because that would lead to hard-ons and wanking and he just couldn’t bring himself to do _that_ with Draco in the next room.

 

After successfully ignoring his cock and willing it to go down -- well it was only half hard now -- Harry turned off the shower and used one of Draco’s thick white towels to dry himself off. He’d already spelled his clothes clean, but the idea of wearing yesterday’s boxers, whether spelled clean or not, wasn’t particularly appealing, so Harry decided to go and ask Draco if he could borrow a pair of his. It had absolutely nothing to do with Harry wanting to get a look at Draco’s pants. Nothing at all.

 

He wrapped his towel around his waist and went to knock on Draco’s door.

 

“Come in.”

 

As Harry opened the door and was greeted by the glorious sight of Draco, wet from the shower and also wearing just a towel, Harry realised that maybe he hadn’t really thought this through -- in any way whatsoever-- and he couldn’t help but stare at the lean expanse of Draco’s body that was on display.

 

Draco’s towel was sitting so low on his hips that Harry could see the where his happy trail ended and everything else began. He watched the drops of water making their way slowly down the pale, smooth-looking skin and couldn’t help but lick his lips as he imagined catching them on his tongue.

 

To Harry’s utter horror, he was now painfully aroused and since he was sporting nothing but his own small towel; it was all on display for Draco to see. His eyes shot back to Draco’s and he got a little harder -- which he’d honestly thought was impossible by that point -- from the way Draco was now looking at him.

 

“Just what are you hiding under there, Potter?” Draco asked, grinning and raising an eyebrow at the rather obvious tent in Harry’s towel.

 

“N- nothing,” Harry stuttered, cursing his excitable cock and trying to think unsexy thoughts, which was virtually impossible with Draco stood there all wet and dripping and looking far too hot. How was Harry supposed to hide his attraction with all that flesh on show?

 

“Really? Because it definitely looks like a _something_ from where I’m standing,” Draco said, eyes sparkling with humour and something else that made Harry’s insides tingle. “A rather _large_ something at that.” 

 

“Draco...” Harry tried, but his heart was beating too rapidly in his chest and all his blood had fled south, leaving his brain floundering for something articulate to say.

 

“I want to see.” Draco whispered, moving over to the bed and snatching up his wand. “ _Accio Harry’s towel_.”

 

Before Harry could open his mouth to protest or reach down to hold onto his towel, it was flying across the room into Draco’s waiting fingers.

 

“Mmm...” Draco eyed Harry appreciatively. “I wouldn’t call _that_ nothing.” With a flick of his wrist, Draco dropped his own towel and sauntered across the room with all the grace and poise of a prowling lion. He stood in front of Harry, reaching out to trace a finger along the length of Harry’s cock.

 

“I asked you to fuck me last night;” Draco said, wrapping his hand around Harry and lazily stroking him as he spoke.

 

“Yes,” Harry choked out.

 

“Why didn’t you?”

 

“I wanted to.” Harry whispered, closing his eyes and just enjoying the feel of Draco’s hands on him at long last. “ _Merlin knows_ I wanted to. But you were drunk.”

 

“So?”

 

“I would never take advantage of you, Draco.”

 

Draco smiled at the use of his first name and moved a little closer, sliding his hand around Harry’s waist as he pressed up against him. “You kissed me though?” he asked, nuzzling Harry’s neck and making him moan and squirm.

 

“I’m only human.”

 

“Yes you are, Potter.” Harry could feel Draco’s soft laughter against his skin. “I’m not drunk now.”

 

It only took a second for Harry to recognise Draco’s invitation, and then his arms were around him, walking them back until they hit the wall. Harry kissed him, hot and hard and full of promise, tilting his head and teasing Draco’s soft lips with his tongue.

 

Draco moaned as Harry shifted his hips, his hands still gripping Harry’s waist and holding him tight. Harry’s fingers slid down Draco’s back, over the swell of his arse and between his cheeks. Draco sucked in a breath as soft fingertips rubbed over the sensitive flesh there, arching into Harry’s touch, and letting his head fall back against the wall.

 

“Fuck, Draco,” Harry’s voice was muffled as he licked along Draco’s collarbones, nipping at the skin and then kissing it better.

 

Draco reached between them, his hand covering both their pricks and moving up and down in a slow, steady rhythm. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispered into Harry’s ear. “I want you fuck me hard and fast and I want to feel it when you come inside me.”

 

_Fuck!_ Harry thought as Draco’s words went straight to his cock. Any more talk like that and he‘d be coming all over Draco’s hand. Harry grabbed hold of Draco’s thighs and lifted him up -- he didn’t play Quidditch every weekend for nothing -- forcing Draco to wrap his arms around Harry’s neck.

 

 “What are you doing, Potter?” Draco breathed, grinding his hips in such a way that made Harry’s legs go weak.

 

“Taking you to bed.”

 

Draco hummed in agreement, moving again and making Harry hiss. “If you do that again, I’m going to drop you,” Harry muttered as he turned them and headed towards the bed.

 

Draco just laughed and wriggled some more. “Hurry up, Potter. We haven’t got all day,” he murmured, biting at Harry’s neck.  Harry made it to the bed and deposited Draco none-too-gently in the middle of it.

 

Draco grumbled as he positioned himself, leaning back on his elbows. Harry just smiled and crawled up after him. With a few whispered charms and a handily placed bottle of oil, they were ready. Harry watched in awe as his fingers slipped in and out of Draco’s hole, stretching and preparing him.

 

“For fuck’s sake, Harry.” Draco cursed, pushing against Harry’s hand. “I’m ready.”

 

Harry grinned, pulled his hand away, dripped some more of the oil on his fingers and liberally coated his cock, smoothing the oil up and down and all over. “Are you sure?”

 

“Yes! Now hurry up and get inside me before I come from just watching you wank.” Draco snapped, spreading his legs further apart so that Harry could settle himself between them.

 

With one sure thrust Harry pushed in all the way, biting his lip in an effort not to come from the feel of Draco wrapped around him.

 

“Move, Potter.” Draco groaned, pulling Harry down for a rough kiss and rocking his hips at the same time. “For the love of Salazar... _move_.”

 

Harry did move. He fucked Draco with long, hard strokes, hitting that spot inside him that had Draco yelling his name and wrapping his long, lean legs around Harry’s back. It was fast and filthy, with Draco whispering dirty, dirty things in Harry’s ear and Harry fisting Draco’s cock until he arched his back and came all over his stomach and Harry’s hand.

 

Harry grabbed Draco’s hips, fingers digging into the pale skin as he thrust into him one more time, holding him still while he released inside him, shuddering and whispering Draco’s name. They collapsed together in a sweaty, sticky mess and Harry couldn’t remember when he’d been happier.

 

\--oxo--

 

“So,” Draco said as he lay beside Harry, idly running his fingers through the smattering of hair on Harry’s chest. “What happens now?”

 

Harry could tell Draco was trying to sound like his usual nonchalant self, but he could hear the slight tremor in Draco’s voice as he spoke.

 

“I’m not leaving, if that’s what you think.” Harry replied, calmly.

 

“You say that now,” Draco scoffed and Harry winced as Draco’s fingers tugged on his chest hair. “But looked what happened with Blaise, and he was my best--”

 

“Look,” Harry said, taking hold of Draco’s chin and forcing him to meet his gaze. “Blaise was an utter twat and a fool for treating you like that.” Draco made a small grunt of approval, but otherwise remained silent. “Well I am _neither_.” Harry waited for the inevitable sarcastic comment, but Malfoy was still surprisingly quiet. “So, now that I have you.” Draco raised an eyebrow at that statement and Harry grinned in return, because Draco’s silence was as good as a verbal agreement. “I’m _never_ letting you go.”

 

“Who knew you were so possessive, Potter?” Draco huffed, but proceeded to snuggle into Harry’s side, tucking his cold feet between Harry’s warm ones.

 

Harry closed his eyes, smiling as he slipped an arm around Draco’s back. “You never did take me for that ride,” he whispered, smiling even wider as Draco’s soft laughter rumbled against his chest.

 

“There’s plenty of time for that, Potter,” he said, nuzzling further in. “Now shut up and let me nap.”

 

 

The End.


End file.
